


Flayed

by gatepromise



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-20
Updated: 2013-09-20
Packaged: 2017-12-27 02:43:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/973355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gatepromise/pseuds/gatepromise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written in response to, and in a homage to, a story written on KMM where Arthur has been poisoned and Merlin tries to find an antidote for him...during a blizzard. He orders Kilgarrah to fly him to where he needs to go, but is half dead and mostly frozen before they get there.  Canon era, pre-series 4.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flayed

“Merlin!” Gaius’ voice was unusually sharp and harried, and rare as it was to be directed in that tone at Merlin. “I need you to be still and keep covered. You have to stay calm…”

Another attempt to coax Merlin to drink the hot medicinal tea Gaius had prepared only resulted in most of it spilling down Merlin’s chin. With the three knights surrounding himself and Merlin, all of them trying to talk to Merlin and adjust his blankets, make him more comfortable, Gaius was beginning to feel more claustrophobic and exasperated by the minute.

Truth be told, Gaius’ was probably the calmest person crammed into the small space of his workroom. Besides the swaddled, half-sobbing, protesting form of Merlin, there were also three big, red-cloaked, heavy-booted and concerned knights equally fussing over Merlin’s distressed form. It had been chaos ever since Percival had arrived bearing Merlin’s frost-burned, shivering, semi-conscious form, closely followed by Gwaine and Lancelot. Gaius had put the knights to work, helping him to strip off Merlin’s damp clothes, dress him in several layers of soft woolen night shirts, sleeping trousers and socks, and then wrap him in several more layers of heavy blankets. They’d stoked the fire and lay Merlin before it. Gaius was now trying to apply healing salve to Merlin’s raw face and hands, but Merlin seemed not to want his help. He only kept repeating Arthur’s name and that he was sorry, he had tried and failed, and now the prophecy would not be fulfilled; and lapsed between half-sobs and glazed-eyed silence.

The knights and Gaius had all tried, unsuccessfully, to assure Merlin that Arthur lived, that Gaius had once again pulled a rabbit from his hat, metaphorically speaking, and saved Arthur from the wretched poisoning of a jealous and traitorous knight. 

Now Giaus tried again, this time his tone more gentle and deliberate. “Merlin, listen to me. Hear me. Arthur breathes, and will live. I have found an antidote for him. He is uncomfortable but recovering.” Gaius tried to lightly hold Merlin’s face between his hands, to stop his attempts at thrashing his head, but to no avail. Around him, the knights all tried to murmur their reassurances as well. Was Merlin even hearing them, understanding what they were saying? Gaius knew from experience that being overly cold could sometimes temporarily affect the mind, alter and confuse perception. But he needed Merlin to know that his Prince was safe…

If the circumstances were not so dire, Gaius might find the whole situation wryly amusing. Just before he’d been summoned to care for Merlin, who had collapsed in the courtyard, Gaius had been with Arthur, who had been insisting that Merlin attend him, and had kept demanding to know Merlin’s whereabouts.

Gaius closed his eyes briefly. He knew exactly what both the prince and his servant needed right now. He sent Gwaine and Lancelot off ahead with instructions, and then accepted Percival’s help to stand from his kneeling position over Merlin. “Help me wrap him in more blankets, and then I’ll need you to bear Merlin to the prince’s chambers.”

It was an odd procession they made, the big, muscled knight carrying Merlin, almost unrecognizable in his cocoon of blankets, and Gaius, hurrying in their wake. Percival moved quickly as always, moving as if he carried the weight of no more than an infant, even striding up the many stairs leading to Arthur’s rooms without so much as breathing heavily. 

Gwaine and Lancelot had already pulled the narrow bed from the antechamber and set it up before the fireplace, and stoked the fire in the already-warmed chambers of the prince. They’d even set several more blankets to warm before the fire, and were prepared when Percival entered with the prince’s manservant.

Percival demonstrated his usual subtle intuition and proceeded directly to the prince’s bedside with Merlin, for the moment ignoring the bed by the fire. He, too, understood what Merlin and Arthur needed before their healing processes could properly engage and they could rest as they required.

Merlin had quieted on the trip across the courtyard in Percival’s arms, surrendering himself to the odd momentum of being carried and the to and fro of Percival’s steps. Merlin’s eyes were the only visible part of him; everything else, head, face, body, limbs, had been wrapped against the cold, but his eyes were wide open now and showing more awareness than they had since he’d arrived back in Camelot. And those blue eyes saw only his prince, alive, certainly, though obviously not himself, not well but a sickly yellowed jaundice from the poison, and weak from the ordeal. Even so, Arthur was as aware as Merlin, and had been asking for Merlin for long hours, knowing that in his weakened state, his manservant would be with him, should be at his side, to tend and fuss over him, if he had breath to breathe. Merlin’s absence had alerted the prince that something was very, very wrong, that Merlin must be unable to be with him.

And that knowledge had not at all helped the ailing prince in his rest or healing. Not at all.

And so of course, upon seeing his manservant, wrapped in blankets and held in the arms of one his knights like a babe, the first thing Arthur did was pull the blanket lightly covering Merlin’s face away. In a glance, he noted the abraded, chapped cheeks and lips, the reddened nose and eyes from the sting of snow and ice. Arthur’s concerned response was:

“You’re an idiot!”

There was a round of expelled breaths and quiet snickers in the room. Merlin himself smirked slightly, though he said nothing. Percival carried him over to his waiting bed and the three knights all took turns tucking Merlin in. Arthur directed them to take furs from his own bed to add to Merlin’s. When Merlin weakly protested, Arthur equally weakly returned that he himself was too warm as it was, and then, “Shut up, Merlin.”

Gaius arrived in the middle of the production that was the knights settling Merlin down for the evening. For a moment, Gaius just watched, bemused. What was it about his ward that inspired the friendship and protective instincts of these strong warriors? Gaius shook his head slightly, for he already knew the answer to that, even if it was surprising to see it demonstrated so strongly before him.

Finally, after Lancelot had tried to tuck Merlin’s arms under the blankets and Merlin had pulled them out for the third time, earning him an exasperated “Merlin!” from the princely bed, Gaius called a halt and shooed everyone but the two patients from the room. He went to Merlin first, ordered him to “Put your arms under there!” and pulled the blankets up under his chin, making sure more blankets were wrapped around his head and covering his ears and neck. Tomorrow, he’d reapply the healing cream to his face and hands, and check his toes, to ensure frostbite hadn’t taken hold, but for now, what Merlin needed most was warmth and sleep.

Gaius then moved to Arthur, who was silently glaring at his errant manservant from his mound of pillows. Arthur had been through hell as the poison had worked its way through his system; his sweat, tears, urine, even his saliva had been stained darkly, leaving his skin and even the whites of his eyes an unnatural color. He was still sickly and far too weak, but by tomorrow, no doubt he would begin to protest against his forced bed rest. For now, Gaius quickly checked Arthur’s eyes, pulling the lids up gently, urged him to drink water frequently, checked his fever (normal) once again, and told him he was doing well.

They would both be all right, both of them. Gaius repeated it to himself several times, like a mantra.

“With your permission, I will take my leave now, Sire,” Gaius said formally.

Arthur nodded distractedly, still glaring at Merlin. 

Gaius gathered his medical case and stood to leave, giving Merlin a stern “Behave yourself” look on the way to the door. Just before he reached it, however, Arthur spoke, his voice quiet and perturbed. “Merlin, whatever possessed you to do such a foolhardy thing…”

Before Merlin could open his mouth to speak, Gaius turned. “Sire, you are both badly in need of rest. Please save the severe scolding Merlin has earned until such time when you can both at least stand up.” He shot Merlin a glare too, who was not looking contrite. “Merlin, you and I are also going to have a serious conversation when you are better, but it will keep for now. Go to sleep.” 

“Thank you, Gaius. Good night” Arthur offered. 

“Good night”. Merlin murmured.

“Sire.” Gaius sketched a slight bow. “Please don’t throw anything at him tonight. Good night.” And Gaius let himself out.

And for a moment the prince’s chambers were silent, save for the quiet, comforting crackle of the fire. 

There were a few low grunts from the bundle of blankets by the fire, and Arthur watched darkly while Merlin wriggled somewhat. 

“What are you doing?”

More wriggling. “I’m…erm…I can’t find my arms.”

Arthur rolled his weary eyes. “Honestly…have you tried looking at the end of your shoulders?”

“I know where they are, I just can’t get to…ah!” Merlin finally managed to free his hands from the mounds of blankets they’d been buried under and raised them in triumph, grinning. “Got ‘em!” 

“You…you…I have no words for you.”

“Well, they wrapped me up to the point I could barely move.”

“You shouldn’t be moving. I heard about you, getting yourself completely frozen, wandering off in a snowstorm. Look at you, your skin is all practically scraped off, like you’ve been flayed. What did you do, have yourself a little lie-down in a snowdrift?”

“I was trying…”

Predictably, Arthur cut Merlin off as if not even hearing him and continued on with his lament about Merlin’s mental afflictions in a more put-upon tone than was even usual for him. 

“And I’m here sick, and puking, and turning different colors, and you’re off, what, making snow angels? Thanks a lot, Merlin.”

The truth was that Arthur knew exactly what Merlin had run off to do, almost ensuring his own death. But he’d never let him know it. Probably.

“I was not! I was going to get you the antidote!”

“Gaius had the antidote.”

“Well I didn’t know that, did I.”

“You don’t know much, do you.” Arthur shifted in his bed.

“I know that you’re a right royal prat!”

“You just risked your life, again, for a prat. And don’t expect me to thank you, either! Getting yourself killed would not have helped me at all.”

Merlin grumbled, but had no answer for that. He was pretty sure that somewhere in that, there was some concern for his well being, albeit greatly couched in insult.

After a moment, Merlin asked, “How are you feeling? You don’t look well.”

“I feel like I’ve been poisoned and my insides are now my outsides, thanks for asking.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Pfft.”

“I am. I’m sorry you are feeling so poorly. But I’m not sorry I tried to help you.”

“….”

“Arthur?”

“What, you moron.”

“Gwen was very worried about you. She cried.”

“I know. And now she’s worried about both of us.”

“She knows we’ll be all right.”

More silence. A log in the fire snapped. 

“Was the king here with you?”

“Yes, for a few moments. He…was angry. The knight…”

“Broman”.

“Yes. Leon had already dispatched him, so Father had no one to take out his anger out on. There was a lot of shouting…I’m not sure at who.”

“Yeah. Did he stay with you?”

“He…wanted to allow me to rest. I would rather he not see me like this, to be honest. I’ve had things coming out of orifices I didn’t even know I had.”

Merlin made a low sympathetic noise that sounded suspiciously like a chuckle, tried to move a bit on his narrow cot, but gave up when the blankets all but bound him in place.

“Gaius says that’s a good thing”, he offered.

“You try it sometime, see how good it feels.”

“No, thanks, I’ll stick to just turning into a skinny icicle, if you don’t mind.”

“I do mind, actually. That was so dumb…”

“Arthur, it wasn’t dumb. It’s my job to look after you.”

“Not by getting yourself frozen! You try that again and I’ll, I’ll kill you myself, I swear.”

Merlin made an amused sound.

“Shut up, Merlin. Go to sleep.” Arthur shifted again, trying in vain to find a comfortable position for his aching body. “You make me tired. And you are so getting yelled at, and mucking out the stables, as soon as I can yell and you can muck.”

“Good night, Arthur.”

Arthur heard Merlin yawn widely, heard him try again to shift on his bed. He watched from his own bed as the light from the fire played across the sharp planes of his friend’s face, as Merlin drifted to sleep, looking young and vulnerable and hurt. 

He sent a silent thanks to Gaius, to his knights, and to the world at large for sparing this stupid, devoted, unbelievably loyal friend once more, and then found peace in Merlin’s even breathing before dozing himself.


End file.
